


505- angsty Van McCann

by vanmccanneyelashes



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band), Van Ryan McCann
Genre: Angst, F/M, Reader-Insert, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:55:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23121340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanmccanneyelashes/pseuds/vanmccanneyelashes
Summary: You, Van McCann and 505 by the Arctic Monkeys.“What did you expect?” He let out a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He’d never be able to leave you alone.
Relationships: Ryan "Van" McCann/You
Kudos: 10





	505- angsty Van McCann

**Author's Note:**

> heyyyy so i’m really new to all this and i’m not entirely sure how it works but if you like this please let me know and leave a comment about your favourite bit because i have a few more ideas for stories i could write if any of your are interested :)

“You’re back.”

You only sounded half surprised as you 

whispered the words to him. You knew he’d be back though, whether it was crossing the Atlantic or driving across the city, he always came back.

It was Friday night, not even that late. You had been getting ready to join your friends on a night out, make up done, hair soft and straight and your favourite tight black dress zipped up. 

And then you’d heard the knock.

The knock that shouldn’t really have to knock but always did. Maybe it was the time since you’d last seen each other, or the space that had built up between you in the weeks since the daily text messages had faded or simply just the manners and respect his parents had drilled into him that made him feel like he had to knock on your door before entering. 

That’s how it always went though.

The distance between you would get the better of whatever the two of you had going on as he toured around the world. The texts and phone calls would become less and less until they stopped altogether and then one day he’d be back, no warning, knocking on your door like you weren’t stuck in a constant cycle of sex, silence and heartbreak.

You knew what he wanted when you opened the door. 

His hair was getting longer again, in need of a cut and his eyes were burning into yours straight away, his leg bouncing and one hand pressed against the door frame, waiting, trying to gauge your reaction to his presence.

He smelt of cigarettes and he swallowed uncomfortably like he was dying to touch you. Like it was causing him physical pain that you were stood there fully clothed and weren’t waiting on the sofa, naked and touching yourself with the anticipation of seeing him again.

That’s how the last phone call had ended.

You telling him everything you wanted him to do to you whilst you did it to yourself and moaned down the phone at him, knowing he was locked in the only bathroom on the tour bus, hands down his pants as he tried to keep as quiet as possible.

But that had been the last call. 

You’d been busy, he’d been busy, you had never really defined what the thing between you was and so the times zone difference meant you hadn’t spoken in three months. 

You instinctively grabbed the door again and went to close it. “Stop,” He caught it and stepped into your flat uninvited. “Wait a sec.”

“Van.” Your voice croaked out. “What are you doing here?”

He signed, his rough hand reaching out to stroke your soft cheek. He was a lot taller than you and as you looked up at him with glassy eyes you knew you were killing him. “What did you expect?” He let out a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He’d never be able to leave you alone.

Your eyes were cold and empty as you tried to force down any feelings you had for the man stood in front of you. It was easier that way. You were an all or nothing type of person. When you loved, you loved hard or you didn’t care at all and Van McCann was lost somewhere in between. All the feelings, none of the time together.

So you shut yourself off completely, not verbalising any of the feelings you had for him that were so strong you felt physically sick when he left. You let him tell you he loved you as he leant his cheek against your naked back under the sheets, pressing a kiss into the curve of it before you grabbed a fistful of his hair and dragged him back up to you. Your hands snaked around his neck and you smothered his lips with yours, biting down so that he’d forget about your lack of reply, or acknowledgement of his words.

He still adored you though. He’d still come back every time with his exhausted blue eyes, unwashed hair and ginger stubble starting to poke through his cheeks after the hours of travelling without shaving.

And then he leant in and kissed you hard. Your lips met and tongues collided as the spark that was always simmering was brought back to life. You dreaded the day the time and distance apart would be too long and it would simmer to a point of no return and you’d have to stop the stupid games you were playing with each other’s hearts.

Van knew what your were thinking as you greedily wrapped your arms around him and let him drag you to your bedroom, lips never parting for more than a few seconds. He knew as he pushed you back into the bed and climbed on top, letting you roll over to sit in his lap and take control like you always did, that this time it was different. You were more desperate for him, you needed all of him now before he was gone again.

You gripped his shoulders and his hair and his face, grinding your centres together through your clothes, desperate for some friction. And when his fingers disappeared under your lace underwear it was like your thoughts spread from your body through to his. He sucked in a breath from deep in his chest and froze like there was a knife stuck in his chest, being twisted about by your hands.

“What?” You whispered against his lips, avoiding looking into his eyes as you pressed your mouths back together and started to unbutton his black shirt. He lips were still though and he too was wondering on how long this was going to last.

You knew it hurt him that he constantly fell short of what you needed. That he couldn’t be fully in your life, only dipping in and out when he wasn’t on tour. He invited you to come with him, travel the world with the boys and see all the amazing cities they played in, but you had a life and a career that was actually starting to go well for once. You couldn’t put all that on hold for him.

Maybe it made you selfish to deny him a relationship, to leave him disappointed every time you dodged a question or ignored a comment about what you actually were to him. You knew you shouldn’t every time you dragged him into your bed, knowing that it would never be more than that and it was only your fear of abandonment, that stopped you saying no every time he came back. 

You were afraid of the bite, of the relationship failing and the feelings of hurt, but maybe they’d be no harsher than the bark of pain you constantly felt at never having him fully like that either.

“Van,” You moaned against his neck. He still hadn’t kissed you back yet, but his fingers were moving in and out of you as you stripped each other of clothes and pushed away the thoughts of anything but each other’s bodies. 

He slid into you with ease and fucked you just the way he liked, the way you liked. He still didn’t kiss you back but the way he gripped your hipbones and pressed his forehead into yours as you clawed is his beautiful sweaty neck until he came inside you and titled his head back made your whole body rush as you came too. Your whole body filled with warmth and a small flicker of a smile bubbled in the bottom of your stomach. A smile that meant maybe the middle of this adventure with van is the perfect place to start moving on towards something more, maybe he was back for good this time.

But he went quiet after. 

Lying back, head against the pillows as you curled into his side. “How long are you back for?” Your voice was quiet, he knew you wouldn’t want to know the answer and he ran a hand through his hair, and stared at the celling as he sighed.

“Two weeks.” 

You sighed too. The tiny amount of hope was ripped from you, but then again what did you expect? He was in a band, a fucking good band that we’re amazing and we’re doing amazing and they were his whole life. You could never to take that away from him.

“Maybe we can-“

“Van no.” You cut him off from the stupid ritual you were stuck in. The one where he’d offer to take you out on a date. You’d go for meal get drunk and laugh all the way home to bed. Until he’d leave again and you wouldn’t speak for a month or two. 

But that wasn’t going to happen again. You couldn’t go through it again. The sadness and the emptiness and the crying and not eating and not telling anyone how you felt. It was toxic and you needed to stop.

You closed your eyes and placed your head on his chest. Goosebumps covered your body and he sat up slightly to pull the duvet over both your naked body’s, but you kicked it back off. You wanted to stare at him, every single inch of him before he disappeared again and you wanted him to do the same to you.

You both lay there in silence for a while, tears clouding your vision of the line of hair under his belly button you were staring at before you realised he still hadn’t kissed you back yet. He felt it too, and neither of you wanted to acknowledge it. You pursed your lips and pulled your head away from his chest to press your nose into his cheek. “Van?” 

He didn’t look at you, his body stilled as he thought, ignoring your request until the tears in your eyes began to fall down your cheeks and on to his. He turned his head and swallowed before bringing his fingers to wipe your face dry. “Darlin’ ,” his voice is soft and it only made you cry more.

You didn’t cry. Everyone knew you didn’t. You cried when people die and you’re never going to see them again and that’s it. Except right now you were crying for Van McCann and you couldn’t stop.

He knew it, and the brick wall he’d tried to build up crumbled completely as he rolled on to his side to face you, hands gripped your cheeks as he pressed his lips to yours. He knew now for definite maybe that when you greeted him at your door an hour ago it was a goodbye. 

If your both honest with yourselves you knew it was going to end sooner rather than later, but his silence he had ripped the plaster of pretend right off the wound and spoiled the surprise. 

His hands covered your soaked cheeks, his toes rubbing against your soft feet as his lips tried to kiss the tears away, trying to pretend like he hadn’t taken his hands off your eyes too soon and ruined what was maybe your last night together.

“Y/N?”

”Ryan?”

“I love you.” It was so quiet you almost didn’t hear them as the words left his mouth, and your lack of response only made him sign and hold you tighter. You rolled over, taking his arms that were around you and holding his hands close to your cheek until you convinced him you had fallen asleep.

He stayed for a while watching you, breathing with you and pressing kisses to your bare shoulder until he untangled you’re bodies and pulled his clothes back on. His hand was running though his hair as he left the room and closed the door of flat 505 behind him.


End file.
